


Till The End

by towblerone



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: F/M, Infertility
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 02:30:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3102134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/towblerone/pseuds/towblerone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Blackbeard retires, Charles is not happy at all, and ends up taking his anger out on you. Somewhat inspired by the song “Cruel World” by Lana Del Rey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Till The End

"A great disappointment you are, Thatch."

It was sundown. The small beach was crowded with pirates and women alike, their faces illuminated by torches. Merry music was being played, but not loudly enough to drown out the shrill calls of the seagulls.

The man mentioned stood with his hands on his hips, strong and sturdy. He and Charles glared each other down.

You and your captain, Edward, approached, fresh off the Jackdaw. Charles glanced over at the two of you, and his frown deepened.

"His mind’s made up to stay, he says…so sod ‘im," Charles said with a scoff.

Thatch didn’t reply, only maintained his fearsome stare on the angry man who he’d known for so many years, but was so ill-tempered and uncooperative, he couldn’t be called a friend.

Charles turned and addressed his next words to any and all who could hear his words.

"And hang all ‘o you lot that follow this sorry bastard into obscurity!"

He stalked off, fuming and muttering curses under his breath, and stopped not far from them.

You were inclined to follow, so you did. Thatch and Edward watched you go, ready to jump in if Charles lashed out, but curious to see the exchange.

You stepped closer. Either he hadn’t noticed you yet, or he was pretending not to.

Charles made it no secret that you were one of the few people he could actually say he enjoyed being around. And you liked him as well, though probably more than he liked you.

He was brutally honest with his feelings, especially when it came to others. Because of this, you felt you were the best one to talk to him, given his friendly attitude towards you.

"Charles," you said quietly. You knew that he wasn’t always friendly with Thatch, but you could tell he was deeply hurt by the fact that he chose to give up on piracy.

You reached out your hand and placed it on his shoulder, but no sooner had you done so than he had rounded on you.

"And what of you, eh?" he hissed. "How long until you’ve up and decided this Republic ain’t worth your time?"

"Excuse me?"

"Is that what you’re here for? Come to tell me you’re quittin’ us as well?"

"What? No! Charles, I-"

"Save your shite for someone else, I ain’t gonna listen!" he yelled at you, and turned from you. He stomped away, kicking up sand behind him.

For a moment, you stood there, unable to move. Processing. Then, you sighed. You returned to stand by Edward, who gave you a sympathetic smile and patted your back lightly.

Thatch was silent still. He snorted, then spat at the ground where Charles stood only minutes before.

"That man’s a prick."

Your fondness for Charles led you to defend him.

"He’s just upset," you said in a gentle voice. "I’m sure he’ll calm down soon."

Edward laughed quietly to himself as he sat at the small table. Thatch laughed quite loudly, however.

"Lass," he said once his chuckles had died down, "you’re only sayin’ that because you want ‘is cock in your arse!"

At his words, your face grew hotter than the sand on the beaches.

Thatch kept laughing, the sound of it booming and jovial. You looked over at Edward, and he laughed as well, though he angled his head away so you wouldn’t be able to see it as well.

You could tell your face was red, but now the embarrassment was quickly becoming anger.

You did not like being laughed at.

Every ounce of your normally quiet and calm demeanor was suddenly replaced with courage, and without hesitation, you put a hand on Thatch’s chest and gave it a hard shove.

"And so what if I do?" you hiss at him. His face became dark with a silent warning.

"Lass," Edward warned you as well. But you continued.

"Neither of you give a damn about him," you said. "Someone around here has to."

With that, you stormed off, wanting nothing more than to be alone.

—

After you’d fled, Edward went off to find Vane and have a little talk with him.

He could tell by your words when you’d lashed out - a bit of an extreme way to put it, really - at Thatch that you felt deeply for Charles. And he had his suspicions that he may feel the same.

Some people, Thatch being one of them at first, had speculated you and Edward may be lovers. You were close, yes, but there were no such feelings between the two of you.

To be frank, Edward saw you as a sister. One he felt he needed to protect. And if protecting you meant talking to Vane to judge his true feelings towards you, then that was what he would do.

When Edward found him, he was sitting close to a smaller group of pirates, but not with them. He nursed a bottle of rum and looked absolutely livid. He approached him and gestured to a seat beside him.

"Do what you fuckin’ want, Kenway," he grumbled. Edward sat, and grabbed a bottle of rum for himself out of a nearby crate. They sat together in silence for a moment, before Edward spoke.

"I’d like it if you spoke your mind, Vane."

The man next to him scoffed at first, but after another sip or two of drink, he let his anger out through his mouth.

"Fuckin’ Thatch," he snarled. "Can’t believe his goddamn nerve."

"What do you mean?"

"He’s one of the ones that started this idea," he said. "This whole thing. Nassau, the pirate republic."

Another sip of rum.

"And now he’s givin’ up on what he’s created. Too cowardly to see it through."

"Aye, I suppose I can see what you mean," Edward said. "Only a few months ago, he was angry with Ben for the same reason."

"And a hypocrite too, eh?" He scowled, and flung the bottle, letting it smash on a rock. "Fuck ‘im."

Edward let him vent a bit, but he had already known why Vane was upset about Thatch.

He wanted to know something else.

"That explains your anger towards him," he said, "but what about towards her?"

Charles looked confused.

"Towards who?"

Edward pointed across the beach to where you sat, far away from the celebration. You were sitting in the sand, knees drawn towards your chest, and you looked out towards the sea.

"Her?" Charles said. His eyes softened for a brief moment as he looked at you from afar, but it was quickly replaced with half-hearted anger. "She’s probably takin’ the pardon as well. She and Ben have always been like-minded," he said, spitting as though the words he spoke left filth on his tongue.

Edward shook his head.

"I doubt it," he said to Charles.

"Whaddya mean?"

"I mean," he said, "she’s got no home to return to. No husband or parents."

"So?"

"We’re the closest thing she’s got to a family," he told him. "…probably the closest thing she’ll ever have."

"And whaddya mean by that? Couldn’t she very well just find some man to put a brat in her belly?”

He said the last part with a roll of his eyes.

"That," Edward said with a small sigh, "is not something that you should discuss with anyone but her. Not my place to be telling her secrets."

Charles shook his head at Edward’s nonsense. He’d had just about enough of Edward’s shit, and turned to walk away, but the blonde spoke once again.

"What are your feelings for her?"

He stopped in his tracks. The question was very unexpected.

"I didn’t come here to talk about fuckin’ love, Kenway.”

Edward smirked with one brow raised.

"So you admit that you love her?"

Charles felt a growl rising from deep in his throat, and he clenched his teeth.

"Why do you even care, man? She’s not your family."

"I care because we are family…just not by blood. Now,” he said. “Answer the question: do you love her?”

Charles could feel his breath quickening a bit. There was a strange lump in his throat, and he didn’t like it.

"Do you love her, Vane?"

He knew the answer himself. The only struggle came with admitting it.

With an angered sigh, he threw his hands up into the air.

"Fine!" he snapped, giving in. "Yes, Kenway. I love her. Happy?”

Edward smiled. He’d had the feeling that his feelings and hers were one and the same for each other, and he’d been right. So he was happy…somewhat.

"Not quite," he said to the older man. "Go tell her."

Again, he pointed at you.

—

The calm, foaming sea threatened to lap at your toes. But you didn’t much care to move. The sand was soft underneath you and you were comfortable where you were.

A sigh left your lungs through your nose. You hadn’t meant to get so upset as you had. But the way they teased and laughed…it just made you so angry, you’d done it before you could even think to stop yourself.

But Thatch was right. You did want Vane. You didn’t just want him, though. You wanted him, and only him. You wanted to be the only one for him.

It was something you didn’t understand - and maybe you never would - but it was definite.

You heard footsteps in the sand, and when you looked up, there he was, face as hard as ever.

"Mind if I sit?" he said, voice uncommonly quiet for him. You nodded, and he crouched down to settle into the sand. He sat close, but left enough distance between you not to raise questions. He had two bottles of rum, and he handed you one.

The next few minutes were spent drinking in silence. Or, at least, silence between you. The sound of the celebration and of the waves crashing were ever present.

“‘m sorry, alright?”

You blinked in surprise. Did he just…apologize?

"What for?"

"For yellin’ at ya."

"Ah…it didn’t upset me, it’s fine."

He gave a non-committal grunt, and you both returned to silence. But it was short-lived, and this time it was you who broke it.

"I’m not leaving, you know," you whispered. "I’m staying a pirate."

Charles nodded.

"Kenway’d said you weren’t. Figured I’d find out for myself."

You smiled. Edward did like to talk sometimes.

"And what else did he say about me? All good things, I hope."

Charles smirked, but it died almost instantly.

"Not much, but…" he trailed off. "Said somethin’ about not havin’ a family."

At that, you sighed. Sometimes you wished you could sew Edward’s mouth shut.

But, if Charles was asking, he’d get an answer.

"Well, he’s correct," you said. "I’m unmarried. No siblings. Never knew my parents…"

Well, as long as you were talking about it, might as well tell the whole story.

"…unable to have children."

At that, Charles raised an eyebrow and looked at you. You avoided his gaze, afraid you would find something you never wanted to see from any man: pity.

"Completely unable?"

"Yes. I…I was married. Once. When my husband discovered I was barren, he divorced me. And he’d spread word of my inability, for each time I tried to marry again, the man in question would refuse. Most of them wanted children. A family."

Charles stared at you, but you still didn’t want to look at him.

"What a cock," he said. You laughed at that.

"Indeed," you said. "Since marriage was no longer an option, and I had no real, useful skills…it was the brothels, or becoming a sailor."

"And you chose sailing."

"I chose freedom. I chose the life that wasn’t a constant reminder every time a man was finished with my body that I could never bear the children my body was built for."

Charles was silent on that, and you were thankful for it, but he spoke again momentarily.

"Is that the life you wanted?" he asked you. "Marriage, children…"

"For many years, yes. The fact that I am barren brought me grief. Add to that the fact that no man wanted me because of it, and I was devastated. I felt useless."

"And now?"

"Now…I laugh at my past self. Nothing could beat the life we live, Charles…it is the closest to real freedom I will likely ever feel."

"On that we can agree," he said, raising his bottle. Your own bottle collided with his, and you both drank.

After years of drinking the stuff, the burn of the rum no longer bothered you, and it certainly didn’t bother him.

"You’re wrong on one thing, love," he said to you. "It didn’t stop every man from wantin’ ya.”

"Really? And what man would you be talking about, Mr. Vane?"

"Me. Ain’t it obvious?"

That took you by surprise.

"I’m sorry," you said playfully, trying to play it cool, "it sounded as though I just found out the object of my affections returns my feelings."

He smirked, and you could hear the smirk in his next words.

"Well then, you heard correctly."

And with that, he pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was very gentle, almost strange coming from a tough man like him, but it was a tender moment, you supposed.

Your entire body felt white hot with emotion and excitement. This was something you’d wanted for a long while, and now that you had it, this victory tasted even sweeter than you’d imagined.

When you broke apart, only then did you notice your heart hammering in your chest. After the initial kiss, Charles slipped his hands into your hair and tugged you closer, bringing you in for several more kisses that were smaller, but set your soul ablaze just the same.

He stopped and touched his forehead to your own.

"So you’re stayin’ with us, then?" Charles mumbled, his lips still only a hair’s width from your own. "With me?"

You hummed and closed your eyes.

"Till the end."


End file.
